Flickers
by Writingistherapy
Summary: Spencer Reid has never truly been alright. Warnings: Mature themes, not appropriate for a younger audience.


A short song-ficlet inspired by the amazing song Flickers by Son Lux.

Warnings: This fic will deal with some mature and rather heavy themes. Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Drug usage, Suicidal thoughts and Mentions of previous torture will be included. If you are easily triggered, have sensitivity to heavy materials and or have dealt with this type of thing before and do not want to read something about it, please do not read this story.

This is not **Slash**. The relationship between Morgan and Reid is simply a brotherly bond. **Nothing more.** I have nothing against Slash, but it will not play a part in this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, or any of the characters utilized in this short FICTIONAL story. No profit is being made of this. I also don't own the song, albeit that's pretty obvious.

This is completely FICTION. Nothing in this story has actually transpired, nor will it ever (I hope at least) transpire.

Now on to the story, you've read all the pointless babbling of my deranged and strange mind, so I bet you're hoping for the actual fic to begin. One more thing, if you would like for this story to be continued then I would appreciate it if you left a review saying so. If no one does, then it will simply be a one-shot.

_And with my opened mouth, I join the singing light_

Looking outside, the day is grey, lifeless, _dull_.

A perfect reflection of how you feel.

_I can see the flickers, Over me the lanterns raised._

It's sad that even when at work the scars haunt you and you can feel the safeness of your bed, and the sweet soothing voice of your razor calling to you. Asking you back, begging you to come use them one more time. Whispering that they'll take the pain away, that they'll make you forget.

Instead of Dilaudid it's this, and you know it's better.

Because the scars will eventually fade.

And the pain will eventually subside.

And it's not so addictive you need it all the time.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

_Lift me up, Lift me over it._

"Reid, you okay pretty boy?" Why does Morgan insist on calling you that? "You've been staring out the window for a while now, we really need your help on the case buddy." Can't they see you're ugly? Disgusting? Flawed beyond belief?

"I'm fine," He looks at you as if to say _you're not fooling anyone, _Oh if only he knew just how screwed up you really are. How far from fine you've become. "I'll get my head back in the game, sorry guys."

JJ smiles. Prentiss tilts her head and nods in acknowledgement. Morgan (you can't call him Derek anymore) doesn't look convinced.

_Show me what you're hiding, Take me out into the sea..._

The dreams are vivid and terrifying in their stark honesty. They aren't really dreams. You know this. You've studied enough human psychology to know when a dream is a memory or simply a dream.

1 out 6 males is a victim of sexual abuse.

32% of sexual abuse victims are males.

16% percent are around the age of 4-7.

Morgan was one of these victims.

You can't bring yourself to think of your own experiences.

_Lift me up (I hear the singing light), Lift me over it._

You know the team has noticed a change.

You know they have seen how exhausted you are.

You know they are worried.

And you know that you don't deserve this worry.

_And with my opened mouth, I join the singing light._

Post-traumatic stress symptoms include Nightmares, Flashbacks and preoccupation with assault or abuse memories.

When feeling this way it may create Destructive behaviour and increase aggression, Decrease ones self image, induce thoughts of suicide or even attempts at this act.

_It may also increase want or use of alcohol and or drugs. _

Why did you know all this?

Why can't you forget...everything?

Why?

"Pretty boy we need to talk."

_Lift me up, lift me up, lift me over it, Lift me up, lift me up, lift me over it._

"You need to tell me what's wrong." But did he really? He felt no obligation to do as Morgan asked, and hadn't been aware that he had to. "I know something's wrong and I can't sit by and watch as you destroy yourself!"

Destroy...myself?

Oh Morgan, you just don't understand.

"I'm fine Derek! Stop pestering me about this."

You were destroyed long ago.

And not entirely by your own hand.

_And with my opened mouth, I join the singing light._

He looks hurt and you want to take back the words you've said so carelessly.

Silence hangs heavy in the air between you.

And then he turns and walks away.

You almost feel glad.

Maybe now he'll give up on you and stop caring.

Maybe now you won't have to worry about him being worried.

Maybe now you can contemplate what's been hovering on the edges of your mind.

Flickering around like a humming bird.

Just out of reach but always present.

_I can see the flickers, Over me the lanterns raised..._

You think of Henkel.

You _think _of what he said.

You ponder on whether you deserved what people call torture.

You come to the conclusion that yes.

You do.

You deserve everything.

It's only after you come to this conclusion that you realize something.

You hadn't thought _you did_.

_Lift me up,_

You're a genius.

You've known this since the moment you opened your eyes as a child and simply observed, the usual cries of a baby never once permeating the air.

You wonder if maybe the doctors considered dropping you on the floor and leaving you to die.

You wish they had.

_Lift me up..._

The blade is heavy in your hand when you finish the daily ministration.

On cases you find the copious amounts of blood disturbing.

It's funny how you almost think it's beautiful when it's your own.

_Lift me over it._

You're a genius.

But you can't understand how you're still so stupid.

A/N: Gee who knew I was such a closet Goth? Dayum. R&R if you want!

Link to the song: watch?v=tMCYKpGVEc0&feature=fvwrel

To find it just replace a .

Thanks for reading! c:


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